Warning: I'm going to whine.
I'm tired of keeping track of my calories. As evidenced by the rotten scale. I lost 9 lbs in January. Awesome, right? I've gained 3 back. Bleck.
Getting on the treadmill is hard to fit in my days. And then I have to shower and do my hair. For what? These kids? They don't care if I stink or have frizzy hair. But I can't go to swimming lessons with poofy hair and smelling like four-day old baby barf and rotten breastmilk.
And my Hubby & Sister get to work out whenever they want without considering the three short people. They can get up at 4:45 am on MWF to go swimming. And stay up until 11 pm taking turns on the bike trainer. And go outside ALONE for a run. I can't even run outside because who wants to push a TRIPLE stroller? And besides, they get to shower without having to ref the fight about who's turn it is to feed the baby Cheerios or use the window markers.
Poor poor me!
I have a Hubby who will read this and volunteer to hold the baby so I can run in the evening if I don't fit it in during Naptime. On the weekends, he'll push me out the door to run alone.
I basically had a food free-for-all between the Superbowl and Valentine's Day. It stinks that it shows on the scale.
Guess, I'll wallow in self-pity for a few more minutes and then get my running shoes on.